


Pyre

by UncleTouchyLich



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Arson, Backstory, Murder, Past, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleTouchyLich/pseuds/UncleTouchyLich
Summary: Fire is a solution for years wasted in the order. Short drabble from a question.





	Pyre

They didn’t understand. That was the pain of it. 

For the thousandth time the priest curses all his wasted years. Nothing. He’d learned nothing. Fools and misguided souls, the lot of them. He says a prayer to the Kindred- for dwspite it all, he still reveres them and always will… but he was now sure that he knew the truth of their teachings. Uniquely, he of all living men understood. 

If only she had understood as well. He’d tried to make his counterpart, the high priestess, understand. But all she had been worried about was what happened to all the money, what happened to the infirmary, what happened to the children.

She had tried to stop him from doing what needed to be done. It was the last time she would ever try to meddle in what he wanted to do. She had fought him, oh how she had fought him.

A shame. He thought it was a shame. Now there were not two equals, debating, speaking, acting. Now he must be the lamb and the wolf, both at once. Always.

He stands up, gathering his wiry strength, asking the Kindred for endurance and looks back. He only takes a moment to do so, wiping blood from his nose on the back of his hand. He watches as the spire of the church slowly begins to collapse, flames licking at the wood, embers flying into the dark sky above the city. 

He can’t see it, but he is assured he has done what needed to be done. Inside the church, it is silent aside from the groans and cracks of burning wood. The high priestess lies still, her knuckles and hands bloody. A beam from the ceiling falls next to her. Her clothes begin to burn. Inside the infirmary the children are mostly still in their beds where they’d been smothered, aside from those who hadn’t been dosed heavily enough- those that had tried to run. The other aids, the other priests and priestesses- none were spared. All are still, lying where they’d been overpowered.

Outside, the priest whips his head around as he hears locals starting to gather around the church, crying out in shock as they saw the old temple and the surrounding buildings catching, burning. He readjusts the pack on his shoulder, heavy with the stolen offerings. He carries not only money and treasure with him, to buy his way- far more precious, he carries the truth with him. He’s seen what needs to be done. He sees how he can bring this truth to everyone, no matter how great or how small. He will become a greater savior than before. More powerful. He draws the collar of the patched coat up around his face and runs off.

The sea is calling to him.

**Author's Note:**

> -  
> I received an anonymous question on tumblr: "Didn't the church that raised you oppose undeath?"  
> I chose to run with the association. I pull from lore but also where my own Karthus interpretation has drifted. Originally posted by me on uncle-touchy-lich.tumblr.com under the drabble tag and now mirrored here for safe keeping.


End file.
